


A Fierse Love of Whales

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [93]
Category: Sparhusen (2009)
Genre: Animal Play, BBW, Body Paint, Comedy, Concerts, F/M, Foot Fetish, Head Shaving, Improvised Sex Toys, Loss of Virginity, Love, Love Stories, Musicians, Overweight, Painting, Prostitution, References to ABBA, Rimming, Romantic Comedy, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Shaving, Shrimping, Stranded, Sunglasses, Sweden - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity, Weight Issues, Whales, broke, indecent proposal, sex comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: After buying a ticket from a scalper, believing it is for an ABBA concert, I find myself robbed and listening to the strange music of a group called Sparhusen.An overweight Canadian woman now stranded in the land of Sweden, I begin to openly wail, catching the ear of a man I soon learn is none other than Würst Fierren, record producer extraordinaire and inventor of the "Whale of Sound". He soon offers to help me with my little cash problem and I smell a fish.Letting him take me back to his mansion, I soon discover what the stipulation is for his help and just how much the man has become obsessed in his love for a certain mammoth water dwelling mammal!
Relationships: Würst Fierren/Me
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [93]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Comments: 12
Kudos: 2





	1. A Whale of a Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I get robbed at a Sparhusen concert and then picked up and offered an indecent proposal by one Würst Fierren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally watched Sparhusen today. I found it very funny, particularly Keanu. The gag with the glasses just about did me in. It most surely made my day.
> 
> So taking in my nervousness about posting the next chapter to "NoBody but You" I opted on writing this instead. It's fitting because of Phil Spector, the inventor of the Wall of Sound's, death this week. But this is definitely not a tribute or honor to Spector. It's just fitting.
> 
> That said, I saw Alex Winter's tweet this week where he was upset about people viewing the art as being separate from the man. I can see that point entirely and yet when it comes to a song or a film etc... so many people worked on it and put a little of themselves into it I refuse to just cancel it out. I'm sure if I looked at any film then, with all the credits at the end, not all of those people were perfect or saints. I'd hate to have to get rid of all the things that have made my life brighter. So I choose to focus on the effort made by others, like the poorly mistreated Ronnie, and hope to be forgiven and shown mercy if I still listen to the man's music without condoning or liking the man at all.

"But you told me the tickets were for _ABBA_!" I cried out to the man standing beside me. "This is _NOT_ ABBA!"

I was standing in Sweden, which was hard enough for me to fathom, Ontario, Canada girl that I was. But that I had also just forked over a fair amount of my travel money to see the recently crowned Eurovision contest winners only to find out that it was some other Swedish band instead made it even more surreal.

And pathetic.

"No speak-ah English, ya?" the scalper told me, his accent becoming even more suspiciously pronounced.

"You _speak-ah_ fine english before when you sold them to me, ya?" I rebuttled.

He quickly glanced to the stage in mock shock, "That is not ABBA?"

I turned to study the band a second time, knowing that it was still futile. There were many things all confirming the fact that the band on stage was not ABBA: that there were three members instead of four, that there was only one woman included amongst them, that both men were clean shaven...that they were singing a song about Ice Fishing.

Of course, ABBA had sung about a woman called Nina whose secret night time career was a Ballerina so there was that to consider...

But...No, I couldn't fool myself. The group I had been tricked into seeing was certainly _not_ ABBA.

However, the scalper, equally aware of the fact, used the opportunity to grab the wallet containing the last of my money from out of my hand and bolt, escaping into the crowd, an ocean of Swedes all dressed in thick, heavy sweaters and durable parkas.

"HEY!" I screamed out, trying to run after him but only pushed in the opposite direction by a freshly arrived group of fishermen.

I started to cry. No, I started to _wail_. I didn't think that anyone would hear me so what did it matter. "I lost all of my money!" I bemoaned. "And...and...I'm being forced to listen to a song about..."

I stopped and listened to the lyrics.

"About apples and _fish_?" I said in shock.

"You hav-a problem with the song?" I heard a man's deep voice ask.

I turned to see a stranger standing behind me. He was tall, blond and presumably in his thirties. He was also the most well dressed man in a sea of yarn and general puffy eveningwear. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of shades even though the club was relatively dark. I felt, no I instinctively _knew,_ that he was eyeing my plump frame with curiosity. I was overweight, had been since I was a little girl, but always expected people to point the fact out to me, as if I didn't know already.

"Well...err...I just never...I never expected to hear a song about fruit and sea meat this evening. I was expecting ABBA," I tried to explain, fearing I had offended the man somehow.

"You prefer music about men sitting in palm trees, one where they mention _coconuts_ , I might add? As-a wella attempts to cash in on Giant Hollywood gorilla movies?" the stranger remarked.

"Well...yeah, I'm Canadian," I explained as if this would explain it all.

Which it did.

He nodded. "So if I were to tell you that this is Sparhüsen on this stage, a band destined to out sell ABBA one day the world over, you would be more comforted?"

I thought to myself that I would actually be more _surprised_ than anything else, but did not want to hurt the poor delusional man's feelings and so replied, "Kind of..."

He studied me intensely behind the sun glasses. Or, I think he was doing that. His expression was intense but it hardly ever wasn't from my roughly sixty seconds of having made his acquaintance. "Kind of? Is this Canadian form of enthusiasm?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Bra," he said, looking at what was kept in mine and nowhere near to smiling. "I have overheard you whale-ing that you have lost your money. Where did you see it last?"

I pointed towards the exit. "In the hand of the man who grabbed my wallet and ran off with it. He took my ticket back home with him too."

"Why would he want to go to Canada?" the man inquired.

"No," I sighed in frustration. "It was in the wallet; he didn't know that."

The stranger stood there still staring at me, well I assumed he was. "Would you like it back and then some to make up for the trouble of being a tourist and mistreated?"

Both sounded good...but I was left wondering if there was a catch. People rarely offered you anything for free. Giving him another careful study, I suddenly thought I'd found a reason for his expensive clothing. Picturing being asked to return to Canada with a plastic bag stuck up my ass filled with some sort of illegal substance, I eyed my reflection in the black shades and quickly said, "Err...no. Thank you though."

He stood staring at me for a while. "It is a pity," he said. "You would have been perfect."

He then walked smoothly off.

I was watching his irrefutably nice backside striding out of the exit when I heard two of the fishermen mumbling somewhere behind me as the song ended.

"Was that Würst Fierren?"

"Ya!"

"The multimillionaire record producer?"

"Ya, ya!"

"The inventor of the whale of sound?"

"Ya, ya..."

Before the other "Ya" fell I was out the door, running towards my one hope in all of Sweden and thinking I had just misheard the word well.

"WÜRST!" I was screaming as I exited the building and to the street. "MR. FIERREN!"

I was looking around thinking I had lost my chance when a limo suddenly pulled up.

"Gyet in," Würst commanded and I did.

Sitting on the side opposite to him, I watched in sudden unease, as he shut the limo's door and patted the seat beside him. "Not there...we are worlds apart. Here...beside me."

There are moments when we each do something we know that we shouldn't merely because we don't wish to be impolite. This was one of them. I went to the other side of the limo and sat down next to my savior, hoping that the layers upon layers of clothing I was wearing would give me some protection.

Würst slowly turned his head to gaze at me and his eyes (glasses) stayed on me, uncomfortably for about fifty seconds as the car resumed moving. "Are you aware that whales are the single largest animals in the world?"

"I...I guess I knew it subconsciously," I commented.

"And you are also aware that they make noises so low they are undetectable to the human ear?"

"I didn't know that," I remarked, wondering if the limo had accelerated to a speed which would be unsafe to hurl myself from.

"Imagine," Fierren said. "All that wonderful noise and we cannot hear it."

I was about to say that that was nice when the record producer began to make the recognizable sounds of a whale. They were pretty good imitations actually; better than my friend Dory's. Still, my hand was drawing closer to the door handle to the left the longer he kept making them. When one of them came off sounding a little lewd for being whale, boldly, instinctively, I threw myself out of the car only to find it had already stopped.

In shock, I looked at our destination: a large, oddly constructed mansion. It resembled a huge submarine actually, having the long length of one, with windows like circles to peek out from. The chimney resembled a periscope and I was stupefied in awe as Würst climbed out of the limousine. "You recognize it, ya?"

"Ya, I mean, yes," I lied.

"So you do know me as Würst Fierren then? The inventor of the Whale of Sound?"

I nodded, this being true, at least. I also now knew that it was truly _whale,_ after all _,_ and I had not misheard the fisherman.

"You may call me, Fierse," he said. "What may I call you?"

"A stranger in a strange land," I sighed.

Fierse raised an eyebrow.

"Erin," I ammended. "You may call me, Erin."

Würst closed the limo door. "I like you, Erin," he said blankly. "Follow me."

He snapped his fingers and like some idiot puppy dog I followed.

* * *

The inside of the house was quite nice, despite the awkward outer appearance. I was led from a pure white hallway to a red room that was clearly the record producer's office. I'd like to say there were oodles of records adorning the walls but there were only about one hundred. I guessed in Sweden that that was taken as being sucessful or that songs stayed on the charts longer in a country that had a lot of night and day depending on the season.

"Sit," he ordered and I sat on the similarly red chair opposite his desk.

"You need de money?" Würst reiterated.

"Yes," I said. "I'd saved up all my money to come here and see ABBA...I love Benny and Frida...but now my dreams have been burst, and as Agnetha sang, I feel _disillusioned_." I was close to crying, fearing I'd be stuck in Sweden for the rest of my life.

"I can help," he stated.

"I'd appreciate it," I said with a large sigh of relief.

"I can give you a million dollars, Canadian not American," Würst elaborated.

My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets like two tennis balls. Even with the currency sneakery, which I attributed to the producer in him, it was an extremely generous and absurd offer. "That's not close to what I had in my wallet," I said.

"Well, it's not for free," he said. "I am not radio. I expect you to do something for me..."

"What?" I asked, having expected this.

"Have sex with me," Würst Fierren handed me his condition without shame.

I'd kind of been expecting this too.

I had seen it coming down to sex in someway the moment he had approached me. Well, okay, _drugs_ first, sex second. What surprised me was that he was willing to ask me first and then pay for it. I was also surprised that I hasn't halfway out the door. I guess, with my basic shyness, the rich and debatably famous man's attention made me feel warm and sexy. I was a virgin, expected to die one, and the thought of finally having sex at this stage in my life was...tempting.

It didn't hurt that I was attracted to the very odd Würst Fierren in a perverse way.

Even if he would look better as a brunette.

"Well-a?" Fierren asked, his face as unreadable to me as the few records with Swedish names on the wall.

"Yes," I said, it being too tantalizing to finally experience the pleasures of a man's body and my own, as well as to earn my ride back home and then some, with a man whose attention sincerely flattered me.

"Bra," Würst said calmly. "And you must do it pretending to be a whale."

I was no longer flattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Don't misunderstand me please!
> 
> I'd never prostitute myself unless it was with you or one of your characters. And you could have me for free, no $10000 at all! Not even a penny! I just needed a wacky plot and this tickled me.
> 
> With my heart acting up, I know I should focus on finishing fics but with the upsurgence of Cyberpunk content/traffic here I'm so scared about posting the next chapter to "NoBody but You." When I started it there weren't many. Now...I even got so nervous I disabled comments.
> 
> Some people might think I'm doing this for attention and yes I am. 
> 
> Yours. 
> 
> That doesn't mean I don't get upset if I work on a story and I think it turned out really great, and had important thoughts to share on existence and life and everything, and nobody reads it, kudos it or comments to say job well done. But ultimately you're the reader I'm after here, Keanu Reeves. Whenever, I look at those hit points, I just keep hoping you're one of them. 
> 
> But I can't update my Cyberpunk story just yet. I need to get my courage up for that.
> 
> So instead I write a story and post it where your character offers to pay me for sex if I do it as a whale.
> 
> Sigh. Yeah, I know, I don't make a whole lot of sense sometimes. :/
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3
> 
> P.S. Keanu...I just wanted to say "interesting" is just as good as "breathtaking" or "beautiful" or anything like that. If it came from the heart, it wouldn't be just something possibly thrown back or said because it was expected. It would be honest. That means so much more to me than those other words combined. :D <3


	2. A Close Shave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fierse prepares me for our bit of animalistic lovemaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to update the POP story but this came into my head as I was walking downtown. Yes, I went out today to get my exercise but my heart's back to feeling a little weird. But hopefully yesterday showed me that it can be helped and it just takes time.
> 
> On to the matters of the figurative human heart...
> 
> Last night I was thinking of Severus Snape. I had seen a tshirt I wanted with a doe patronus and the word "Always" on it. I was thinking what it would be like to be loved as Snape loved Lily. 
> 
> Then I got to freaking out that that type of love didn't exist! I knew I felt that way but I'm a little weird and crazy...so my sister and I sat down and tried to think of real life examples. 
> 
> And all we could think of was women whom loved like that!
> 
> Until Fleetwood Mac's The Chain started to play on our TV. Tara looked at me and said, "John McVie." And she was right. Decades after Christine and he had divorced, he looked at her one night, while drunk and on tour, and said something like, "And there's the woman that broke my heart," and confessed that he still loved her. The man who gave The Chain one of it's most prolific melody lines was unable to break the own chain linking him to the woman he still loved, despite having remarried and had children with someone else.
> 
> And then we thought of Johnny Cash with his June, dying 4 months after she had passed on, and Peter Cushing running up and down the stairs the night his wife died, hoping to give himself a heart attack. Or James Stewart not replacing the battery in his pacemaker...
> 
> And all of this is getting rather morbid but I have to say God bless you, John McVie, wherever you are, because of your heart and love and that you helped to reassure me that men's hearts do beat just as fiercely.
> 
> If only for the right person.

"You want me to pretend to be a whale?" I said, for when one hears something ridiculous our only defense is to repeat it. We either hope that it will be a joke or that, perhaps, if we say it as well it might seem a little more believable or easy to swallow.

But, as with me then, it usually went down with as much ease as a brick.

"Ya," Würst stated. "I want you to have samlag with me pretending to be a whale."

I could have fooled myself into momentarily believing he was having a joke at my expense: pick up a fat girl at a Sparhüsen concert, make a lewd proposal and then suckerpunch her with the punchline. Only he seemed so perfectly serious that I doubted he was trying to be funny.

Plus there were his whale noises and whole "Whale of Sound" to consider.

But to be on the safe side, I asked him just to be certain. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "I have always wanted, no _yearned_ to make love with the commanding beauty of the ocean...so large and majestic."

"Which you wouldn't actually _do_ because it's wrong, right?" I prodded.

He stared at me blankly for five seconds. "Right," he eventually said, unconvincingly.

"Okaaaayyy," I mumbled.

He continued, "Besides a bull..."

"A what?" I asked, not knowing how holstein worked their way into the conversation.

"A bull is a male whale, Erin," Fierse instructed. "His balls weigh a tonne each and carry a gallon of sperm while his penis weighs about 400 to 800 pounds. It is-a 7 to 10 feet long. Far heavier and longer than this humble, multi millionaire, powerful, genius record producer's still impressive dick...plus the cow would likely murder me or I would get lost up her snippa if I were to attempt it."

"Which you _wouldn't_ ," I reminded him and figured that the cow was the female whale. "I see your predictament," I added wryly.

"Thank you," Fierren stated. "Canadians are known for being kind and politely understanding...you being foreign aids me ahlso. You will-a not be known here...you will-a not sell me out to the rags. I hava image to uphold."

I could see where that would cause him problems with all of his three gold records on the wall.

"And-a I like yer image. Big and round...you will-a make a good _whale_."

I frowned and looked at my tummy. I was a pisces, which was a fish not a water dwelling mammal. Still I had heard that pisces came in two types: fish and whales. All of my life I had wanted to be the former, a sweet pretty goldfish, like Cleo in Pinnochio, flirting with Figaro the pussycat. Now a famous Swedish record producer was about to pay me a million dollars and provide a plane ticket back home if I helped him live out his kinky fetishtic fantasy to make love to a creature associated with its blubber. Could I sell out my pride and my childhood ideals for a whole lot of money?

"I'm sorry," I said and stood. "I can't do it."

Würst Fierren aimed his dark shades at my large body and his face twitched in consternation for a second. "Make it a million _U.S_. dollars," he said, impassively.

I sat back in the chair almost immediately. "Where do we start?" I asked.

* * *

We started with Fierse taking me to this dark room with a horseshoe like, very long couch. He sat at one end of the shoe and me at the other while he showed on a large projector enough footage of different whales to make me seasick. I watched them eat, I watched them swim, I watched them eat some more, I watched them swim some more, I watched them ea...

Well you get the picture.

"You see their grace inspite of their size?" Würst asked in distant awe. "How they manage to move?"

"Yes," I replied, agreeing with his statement.

"That is what made me notice you, Erin," Fierren remarked. "You are big...but you can _move_."

I was flattered again. I looked at my hands on my knees and blushed a little, hoping the light from the screen wouldn't betray it.

"Do you swim?" he asked, his face still turned to the screen and his glasses reflecting the images before him.

"No," I said, believing I had found a way out of my greed and lust for him.

"Pity," he said. "But it doesn't matter...ahh...good...now we get to the samlag."

I watched as several whales coupled on the screen, mating with there belly to belly. It seemed fairly normal until company came along.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the interloper.

"That is another bull," Würst said. "He is there to help with the mating..."

I was beginning to worry, hoping he was there to fight for the female and dreading something kinky.

"The cow lies on him, he props her up for support, while the initial bull whom claimed her takes her," he informed.

I told myself it wasn't too bad then...awkward but...

"And after the first male is finished they switch places and he lets the second have her."

My jaw dropped.

"They flip flop like that for a while," Würst Fierren said as if this were perfetly normal behavior, which I guessed it was for whales, gray or humpback, I took it. "Sometimes they both penetrate her at once...often dolphins surround them to watch."

I thought my jaw was about to fall off then, as Würst kept his glasses on the screen but was showing a burst of perverse excitement.

"I'm out of here," I said, rushing for the door, tripping on the rug and hitting every blasted thing in the dark room on the way. My clumsiness allowed Fierse to beat me to the dumb thing however.

"Where are you-a going?"

"I don't do that sort of thing...2 guys," I said, unable to look into his shades. "I'm a good girl...I only want one bull...you."

In the face of his silence, I looked up to see his face illuminated occassionally from the light of the screen. He was frowning but it seemed that it was with a softness. "If you want me to go, I will," I whispered.

Würst shook his head. "You can be-a blue whale...a true blue one...not much is known about their mating habits, ya?"

"Ya," I said in relief.

The man's hand reached out and grabbed a strand of my curly brown-auburn hair. I thought he was admiring it until he said, "Erin...while whales have _some_ hair...they don't have _this_ much...would you-a mind if I shaved you bald?"

My eyes opened about as big as my mouth had earlier.

"All over," he asked, letting the curl drop back on to my shoulder.

I looked at the curl lying there and then back to Fierse. It had taken me so long to grow my hair out after having it been cut in a bowl shape for years. I hated the thought of having to do it all over again and what it would be like when people saw me bald.

Staring into the dark glasses, I saw the screen behind me reflected perfectly and the image of two whales going at it. Their love cries sounded out, surrounding me and I suddenly felt a stirring and heat between my legs. I thought of the man infront of the door and how I could fulfill his perverted wish while he satisfied my own long waiting _need_. Perhaps something displayed on my face gave away my curiosity and hunger, for he brought a hand to my cheek and caressed it with his thumb.

"It can grow back, Erin," he said. "This offer only comes once in-a lifetime."

I swallowed heavily, realizing he was right. "Okay," I whispered again, the whales setting free their love calls in the background.

* * *

In his presumably vacated mansion, Fierse led me to a large round shower room. It was like a giant auditorium, yet shaped like a large orb. Being inside of it was like being inside of a large fishbowl.

"Take your clothing off," the record producer commanded while he kept his own suit on.

Hesitantly, I began to undress, fearing this moment. He wanted someone large but that didn't mean he could handle someone fat, I knew. I wasn't a whale, no matter what he wanted me to pretend to be. My skin wasn't the smooth, glossy, sleek surface of the animal whom had won his obsession. I was far from perfect and as I took off every article of clothing, and stood before him naked, I expected him to come to the few senses he still had left and to let me go. Instead he studied me as he always did with little indication on how he was feeling.

Würst came and walked towards me, pulling out two items from his trouser pockets. I saw what they were instantly: a pair of scissors and a razor. I shivered, goosebumps appearing on my flesh which he looked at in amusement. He ran the back of his hand over my raised flesh, apparently enjoying the feel of it. "Are you cold?" he asked, perchance teasing or maybe not.

"I'm frightened," I replied, holding my large unperky chest.

"Don't be," he said moving closer, his breath touching my cheeks, the only place without goosebumps. He moved in closer to my ear to whisper, "It will be over soon."

I closed my eyes and shivered as I felt Fierse's hands grab my long hair, lying against my naked back. It tugged and my chin raised until my eyes opened and I was looking down my upturned nose at him. We stared at one another in the big fishbowl before the record man began to hack off my hair. My eyes shut again as it fell to my feet, like rain. When he had cut it close to my head, he introduced the razor to my scalp and began to shave me. I had thought he'd wet the hair first but it wasn't necessary, the razor strong enough to handle it. I opened my eyes only when it was over and Fierren had taken a step back to examine his work.

He studied me so long, I feared what I looked like. "Do I look so horrid?" I whispered, holding myself even more, my breasts sprilling over my arms.

"No, you look rather beautiful," he complimented but immediately moved onward. "Now the rest of you," he said, changing the blade of the razor without looking.

Fierse made me lift my arms first, so as to tackle my underarm hair. I'd never cut it before. Assurred of my virginity, there had been no reason to. Infact, the only area shaved on my body before Fierse got to it were my legs. My underarms now smooth, Fierse got onto his knees and stared at my muffin, thick with bush. He ran his fingers through it, clutching the mound and cut the pubes which puffed out between them. I shifted on my feet, feeling too aroused by his nearness to my crotch and his touch. I went back to folding my arms in embarrassment as he made me bald below my waist. The way he ran the blade over my skin was surprisingly sensual. It moved like fingers instead of steel; fingers cold but pleasant. He expertly sheared the hair without nicking me once and making me more aroused in doing so.

"Spread your legs," he ordered and I did, feeling my face burning as cream fell out from between them, revealing that he was turning me on.

Würst Fierren chuckled lowly at the sight of it, boldly using it to shave away any stray hair he found.

"Are we done?" I asked, in humiliation.

"No," he replied. "Now your ass."

I blushed deeper. I was pretty bare back there but there were a few places...

Trying to not look as he went behind me, still on his knees, I tried to distract myself, seeing my large tits. "Whales are mammals right?" I asked.

"Ya."

"Well, do the cows have udders or..."

Würst laughed, the razor being slid on my bum. "They don't have them like you. Their mammaries are five feet long and weigh 250 pounds each."

"Those are huge!" I exclaimed.

"Ya," Würst answered. "The nipples are in slits and folds; the calf goes to them to feed but does not suck. The cow, more or less, shoots the milk into its mouth; it needs an-a enormous amount."

"Where are the slits?" I asked, not remembering seeing any.

The razor blade stopped moving and instead I felt the record producer's finger moving up the crevice between my buttocks. "Near the cow's anus," he told me.

"Really?" I asked, looking over my shoulder and down at him.

Würst looked up at me and for the first time, smiled rather mischievously. "What humans find gross is not shared within the animal kingdom...ya?" he asked.

I watched in shock as the man placed his head into my ass.

"Fierse!" I exclaimed, feeling his tongue exploring around. It touching the crinkled flesh around the hole back there and I felt a unique pleasure shoot throughout my now virtually hairless body.

I moaned, feeling my clit swelling again after a brief reprieve.

My moan caused the producer to emerge from my butt and his hands to move to my now smooth folds on the other side. "Whales have clits too-ah," Fierren said, his finger dipping in to find mine. "Three feet long, Erin...yours is not so big, but it's quite swollen now, ya?"

"Ya," I moaned again, enjoying the way the man's fingertip was rubbing it, rolling around its surface in the same skilled way as he had manipulated the razor over my skin. It was as if all the blood in my body was pooling down within that place hidden inside of my own folds.

"You remember those whale cries?" he asked, his voice, seductive and raspy.

"Y-yes," I replied, becoming more and more enraptured by the working of his finger on my clit.

"Can you try to make them for me?"

"I...I dunno," I moaned, throwing my head back and gasping, the fingers on his free hand finding my vagina and slipping upwards, aiding by the fact that I was oh so very wet.

"Try," he stated and returned his mouth to my ass.

Knowing he was pleasuring me out of my mind (my body only familiar to my own touch), noises came from me willingly, human first. But through the fog of my delight, I heard myself trying to transform them into what I had heard only a little while before. The acoustics of the room made the sounds reverberate and seem louder. I could hear my failure magnified but also my successes. These I latched on to as I bumped my full buttocks into the record producer's face, the one whom was tasting and licking my asshole with no shame.

His fingers feeling deeper inside, I tried to thank him for my bliss with the best whale calls I could manage and his excited maneuverings of tongue and fingertips proved to me I was also pleasing his keen ears. I came with a particularly loud sound, my best effort yet, my whole large, hairless frame quivering and shaking in his grasp. It was an explosion I had not managed since my first orgasm and I was crying as it faded, the spasms stopping.

Fierren went from knees to feet and my ass felt cold now without him there.

"I'm...I'm cold," I said and soon felt Fierse taking me in his arms and holding me fiercely.

"We must get you warm," he said. "After all, we paint you next..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Protective for you after the Cyberpunk 2077 mod. I knew you probably didn't want that or you would have agreed to it in the first place. Maybe you think it's funny but I'm still upset. You shouldn't be exploited without your consent. Yeah, I know that's ironic with me writing these but...
> 
> Thinking about my note yesterday, I was remembering about how my dad could sometimes be protective too. He wasn't great. Believe me, I know that. But once when the neighbors' dogs were tormenting my sister when she'd go to school he went after them with a baseball bat. "Are the Blackwell's home?" he asked my mom.
> 
> "No," she replied.
> 
> He then chased their dogs up and down the street to their front door, where Mrs. Blackwell soon opened it and asked, "And what do you think you are doing, Walter?"
> 
> He came home, beet red and said to my mom, "I thought you said they weren't home!"
> 
> Or the time he was upset about Jason wanting to do, or doing, that bad thing to me. Or the other time when he caught me looking at the vhs tape to "Fallen Angel" and yelled at me to put it down. And I felt so upset and ashamed and told my mother, hoping she would side with me but she said he was right. And knowing what the film was about he was right.
> 
> But then he would also be so cruel too and brutal. He broke my mother's thumb. I remember he hit Tara once below the waist when they were playing a sword fight with paper towel rolls and she was doubled up in agony for a while. And once, when I'd just seen a film where a woman hit a guy in the crotch in defense and did it with him he hit me full force on my right breast. I always feel like I deserved that one...but I can still remember sitting on the bed and it hurting so badly for so long afterwards. 
> 
> And the teasing was always present. You could never get away from it or the feeling that you had done something wrong.
> 
> So, I don't know. Maybe he just thought he was the only one who had the right to hurt us?
> 
> I don't think my dad had half a chance actually to be a decent human being. No excuses, just trying to figure out why he was the way that he was. His own father left his mother for another woman when he was a child. And then his mom and he formed this relationship which wasn't healthy and was also abusive. She once broke a plate over his head and put Noxema on his sunburn. They were close, too close, and twisted in their anger and pain over having been abandoned.
> 
> And so he abandoned us later too.
> 
> Dad's father, got remarried and had another family. They owned the nearby Mark's Work Warehouse and we weren't allowed to mention it or visit it. I remember rushing by it in the mall, silent and creeping whenever we passed by.
> 
> My paternal grandfather visited my mom once when Tara was born and brought a stuffed toy. Dad was out of the house and mom said when he came back he told her that if his father ever showed up again he would kill him.
> 
> When I was born, he sent another stuffed toy. He died in the late eighties and I remember feeling odd about it and regretting we'd never gotten the chance to meet each other. I wrote about it in the diary I'd been given for my birthday but then felt strange and exposed whenever I reread the passage, like I'd let some intimate feeling out I should have just kept to myself. I'd often feel that way about writing what was inside of my heart. Guess, I've come a long way since then, huh?
> 
> I have my father's laugh sometimes. I hate that. Not so much because it reminds me of him everytime I'm having a good time but because it's not a very good laugh. So that quote you said about the most beautiful thing on God's earth is making a woman laugh...well, if you make me laugh, you'll be hearing my dad laugh and it isn't very pretty. Infact, when the Doctor once listened to my chest the stethoscope was cold and made me do it. She replied, "Well the chest sounds fine but I'm not sure about that laugh." :/
> 
> I worry I look like his mother often too.
> 
> I wonder sometimes why we carry with us things that remind us of the hurtful people in our lives? Why does God do that? Then I get to thinking maybe those things weren't what made them bad and God only wants to pass them on to someone better so he can save those aspects and not let them go to waste. He might have been proud of what He created and it isn't an insult it was passed on to us but a blessing instead. That makes me feel better then.
> 
> I hope you're okay out there. I'm thinking of you. But, then again, I usually am.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	3. Painted in Broad Strokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fierse paints me into his vision of a whale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...
> 
> I just went with it. :/

It was warm in the record producer's arms, more so then I would have ever expected from his cool demeanor, but I was not allowed to linger in the embrace for too long.

"You know that whale blubber keeps them warm, ya?" he asked, smoothly removing his arms from my hairless body and grabbing my trembling hand. "It's six inches wide and serves as de insulation."

"Fascinating," I said as he pulled me forward and into yet another room of his very odd mansion.

On our short way, I looked around, praying that there was no hidden cameras or other things an eccentric record producer might have, not only for security but for his perversions, one of which I was not only getting a taste of but becoming the star of too. Being captured for eternity large, naked and bald as a melon wasn't a thrilling prospect to me.

I had enjoyed what the man had done to me a few seconds ago, but I had to tell myself that he was just my John for the night and that he was paying for a night's worth of exploitation and that was it. The way he played my body was temporary. The money he was going to pay me would last far longer in my life than he would.

Even if his hand felt nice clasping mine.

I was taken to a studio next. It was large and spacious; it's walls a shade of red with curves of white, giving the impression that we were trapped in the belly of the creature Würst adored. The studio was filled with many easels on which were placed several canvases of different sizes. Looking at each one as my companion let go of my hand to go and adorn a paint smattered artist's smock, I noticed that all of them were of whales. They were also all incomplete to various degrees.

Some of the mammald were depicted swimming underwater... without their fins.

Others were about to eat krill....without mouths.

One was jumping out of the water...without its entire middle!

My head was shaking slightly as Fierse came to stand by my side my eyes studying that particular one. "Why did you never finish any of them?" I asked.

I looked up into his shades to see my reflection staring back in confusion.

"You-ah expect me to compete with nature's sheer artistic majesty?" he asked flatly.

I looked around at the other unfinished artwork. "Why do you keep trying then?" I asked.

"Because they call to me," he said, gravely and added with about as much enthusiasm as a flaccid piece of seaweed: "They are my muse."

"Okaayyy," I said, returning my eyes to the painting.

"Now I am tired of painting a whale," he said. "Now I want to paint a whale. 

I assumed he was looking me over from the slight tilt of his head moving downward. I felt shy again despite our sexual foreplay from the shaving room. _"He wants to do more than just paint you,"_ the thought entered my mind.

"How do we start," was all that I said.

"Over there," he said and pointed to where he had placed down two large beach towels without my having ever realized it. Beside them, lay some brushes and paints, mostly blues and grays.

"Okay," I said again, this time less protracted and walked towards them.

I stepped onto the cloth and wiggled my toes about as if the fabric was sand. In surprise, I watched the action having earned Fierse's attention and how he suddenly flopped onto his stomach in front of my feet and started to suck on each toe. It felt incredibly, unexpectedly erotic, his clever tongue moving around them, so that I gasped as another wave of pleasure went through my large, naked, yet to be painted body.

Once finished a round of suckling each one, ending off on my little left one, he gazed up at me. "You like that, ya?"

"Ya," I replied, my breasts heaving in delight.

He returned to sucking on my toes and making me strangely aroused while doing so. Although, I had heard once that feet were the Pisceans erogenous zone, I had never really derived such strong sensual pleasure from them before.

"Toes are like shrimp, I often think," Würst said after giving one a protracted and noisy suck. "Shrimp are like krill...Did you know that a whale, big as they are-a, eats only krill: such a small crustacean compared to its massive girth?"

I trembled, wanting desperately to rub my clit. "I...I have heard it, I think..."

He went to the next toe, offering up another education following his adoration of it. "But a whale will eat 8000 pounds of krill in a day, so I guess it makes up for it."

"I guess so," I said feeling cold, bald and horny.

"I like whales...and I like feet," he commented, kissing the instep of one of mine. "You have cute toes."

I held myself and blushed as the man got to his knees. "Thanks," I mumbled.

"You are welcome-ah," he said before quickly grabbing his thick, large paintbrush, dipping it in a hole filled with creamy liquid on his peach colored paint tray and painting my awaiting body.

I expected the paint to be cold but it was surprisingly warm and nice. As the bristles traveled up and down the front of my body, and I felt my arousal only growing rather than dimming, I asked Fierse about it, disrupting the silence of the artist at work.

"It has been kept warm for just this moment; the colors specifically chosen ages ago...I prepare for the realization of my dreams in advance."

The brush was moving over my breast, it grazed my nipples and my genitals burst to life again, even if the painter was casually confessing he arrogantly _believed_ that all of his dreams would come true. Normally such conceit would have turned me off but now quite the opposite was true.

He was wielding the paintbrush like it was a tongue, exploring every inch of my body and one whose saliva was turning me gradually blue, while inside I was turning red with heated sexual yearning. My embarrassment and sexual need grew as the man began to paint my vulva, seeing a color down their deepened to match the shade of the walls surrounding us. I looked away from his blond head so close to my groin, trying not to feel the big brush caressing every bend and slit. "Is this stuff safe?" I asked.

"Ya," Würst replied. "It is only food coloring and body lotion. Now get on your hands and knees so I can paint yur back and buttocks."

I did, facing away from him but still hot and bothered as the brush continued to paint me varying gradients of blue and gray. Occassionally I glanced at my "creator". He looked as intense as always but I discovered my sexual excitement was shared. The front of his trousers were becoming tented as he turned me into his canvas, one he intended to finish this time and then experience fully as he had always dreamt of.

Near the completion of my body painting, I felt Würst dipping his paint brush into my crevice. He ran it up and down, in between the folds. Sensing that he wanted to stick it into my virginal hole, I stopped him. "No," I said, breathlessly. "Not in there."

"Why not?"

"I want that for your...your..." 

"Manslem?"

"Yes!" I cried, thinking that that had to mean penis.

"As you like," he stated and brought it back to my front where he rubbed it against my clit.

When his mouth replaced the brush at my back hole, I marveled at how cursedly good it felt.

"Ohhh," I cooed as his tongue swirled around my anus and his big brush painted broad strokes on my bud.

Teasingly, the record producer brought the artist's tool to my vagina again, but though I was going to protest again, he only swirled it around it, teasing me and increasing the heat. His tongue went to painting my ass both on the full circular flesh of each cheek and also in the parting space between. I was thinking how his tongue would be died blue when without warning he began to hit the paintbrush into my clit.

His strokes now were strong and knowing, violent without damage.

I screamed out his name and some encouragement to keep doing it. It wasn't long before I came again and Fierse was licking up the liquid spilling out from my still unentered hole. Painted up to look like a whale as I was, I felt more like a dog, panting on all fours with the famous Swede's face rammed up my business as I'd seen countless dogs do to one another.

My ass suddenly was cold as Fierse pulled his head back out of it. He grabbed my own head smoothly but with force from behind, his palm pushing my chin upward and I had no idea what he was doing until the paintbrush touched the top of my head and spun, creating what I knew would be a perfect circle.

Würst Fierren had bestowed me with my blowhole.

"Good, I was afraid you'd insist on giving me a real one and sticking your cock in it," I joked, cheeky in my blissful relief. 

"No, I think your normal one will work just fine," Würst Fierren proclaimed. "Infact, I think it is time to try it out."

There was the sound of a zipper descending and I quickly turned my big naked, hairless blue body around to come face to face with Würst Fierren's swollen and impatient manslem now about an inch from my face.

My head tilted up to meet the dark, inscrutable shades peering down at me.

"Ya?" asked the man behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Yay! I heard that I get to stop wearing this ECG machine on Monday! Which is coincidentally also my Birthday.
> 
> Speaking of which, yesterday I looked around for a cake. I picked up some Vachon and Hostess cakes (remember those? Which were your favorites?) and then a tub of Betty Crocker Buttercream icing. 
> 
> Actually, who needs the cake; the icing will suffice.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


End file.
